


When Germany Was Still Young

by HeartofCanada (Tassledown), Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Food, Gen, M/M, Slight France/Prussia, anxious and adorable Germany, kid!Ludwig, parental Prussia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/HeartofCanada, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia has had a lot of children in his life, some his own and some adopted, but he hasn't raised another Nation before. In fact, he hasn't raised any kid who's so unlike him before - but that doesn't matter. He'll figure out how to do it no matter what.<br/>But everything about this kid worries him, just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Germany Was Still Young

Gilbert dragged a chair over to the bookcase in the library and climbed up to start to shelve the stack of books balanced on his right arm. He squinted at each title and made sure to get them back in in the right order. 

He didn't realize he had company until he finished and turned around to find little Germany offering him a small stack of books by his side.

“Oh! Hey, I didn't hear you come in.” He crouched on the chair and grinned, tempering it so he didn't scare him again. “What did you need?”

“I don't want to interrupt,” Ludwig said. He wrapped the books to his chest, but Gilbert could see in the boy's face he wasn't just there to help out.

“C'mon, you can always interrupt me.” He held out his hand for the books and Ludwig obligingly handed them to him. Gilbert pushed the stack onto a shelf behind him and moved to sit on the edge of the chair. “Now what is it?”

“You should finish putting the books away,” Ludwig said. “Your office isn't clean.”

“My office isn't going anywhere.” He pointed out reasonably, recognizing how this conversation was going to go after living with the kid for a year now. “Do you really want me to finish my office first?”

Ludwig looked down at his feet. “You've worked through lunch.”

Gilbert put a hand to his face. “Oh God, kid...” He stood up and picked up Ludwig's hand. “You're absolutely right. That was a mistake, I'm sorry.”

“Do you want help cooking?” Ludwig asked. He wrapped his hand around Gilbert's and jogged a little to keep up with him as Gilbert took him downstairs to the kitchen.

“Sure! What did you want to eat?”

“Do we still have stollen?” 

Gilbert grinned and checked the breadbox, seeing how dry it was before breaking off a piece and handing it to Ludwig before he got down honey and pushed over the butter. “Sit. Eat.” He dipped a piece into the honey himself and then started to pull open the cupboards, debating how much work he wanted to do. He glanced back over and Ludwig and quickly got the stove going and set out a pot. 

In less than a minute, Ludwig stood at the counter next to him and carefully took some of the food to start chopping it. He was tall enough for the counter, although Gilbert knew that he wasn't quite as old as he looked – he appeared to be nine years old, which was fairly old for a Nation to first appear as, but he'd only been around for perhaps a year, maybe a year and a half. 

It was taking getting used to. Most of Gilbert's children had been, well.

More like him.

“Thank you,” Gilbert said, gathering the vegetables after Ludwig had cut them and finished putting their lunch on to cook. He got out the dried meat and cut that into the pan as well and turned to find, to his relief, that he hadn't had to remind Ludwig he could go back to the stollen. The boy was even sitting on the counter, although he was on the edge.

He wasn't watching him, though, and Gilbert smiled softly in relief at it. Ludwig turned to him and smiled back.

“Is François going to visit again soon?”

Gilbert laughed. “I hope so. Missing his cooking?”

Ludwig smiled shyly. “Yours isn't bad.”

Gilbert norted. “Yeah, his is much better. I have his food and Feliciano's all the time; you can't find better cooks, seriously. We could go see him tonight if you want?”

“Don't you have a meeting you have to go to?”

“We can step there and back, I won't miss the meeting. He won't be making dinner until after anyways.”

“I don't want you to miss it.”

“I promise.” Gilbert stirred the food, watching it quietly. He debated – again – if he should suggest Ludwig go visit François without him, but the thought terrified him. The last time he'd asked, Ludwig hadn't understood why he'd suggested it at all, and then hid in his room from shyness. Gilbert didn't want to scare the boy again, even if he didn't understand why he was afraid.

Gilbert stole another look at the boy, but Ludwig had gone back to contentedly eating his stollen with only a bit of butter, not even bothering with the honey. Gilbert was inordinately proud, as the bread was one of the things Ludwig had taken to cooking for himself with surprising skill. Since it gave him great tasting stollen too, Gilbert made sure there was always supplies he might need to make it in the house.

It was one of the few things Ludwig would do in the house on his own, too. 

Once the food was cooked, Gilbert served it for them both and then considered how much he needed his office organized versus wanting to take Ludwig out shopping again. Gilbert glanced across the table at him.

“Do you want to go out to the market?” Gilbert asked.

“What about your books?” Ludwig replied.

Gilbert did not roll his eyes. “Well, most of them are on the upper shelves. You should have something to do while I'm working on it that isn't just reading over the papers from your meetings.” Gilbert put a teasing note in his voice, knowing that Ludwig liked to read them and wasn't trying to discourage it. The kid just needed other hobbies. “We could get you the ingredients to try the cake again?”

Ludwig blushed a little and looked back down at his food. “Okay.”

Gilbert kept his face neutrally happy with difficulty, knowing gloating wouldn't go over well. But damn if he wasn't happy he knew what at least one hobby was for him. There was worse hobbies than baking. Much worse. If he stayed this good, Gilbert was going to enjoy making sure he had all the ingredients for it he could possibly want. 

They both finished eating at about the same time and Gilbert went upstairs to get their coats and hats, coming down to find Ludwig having tied on his shoes and gathered up the shopping basket as he waited for him. Gilbert chuckled and dropped Ludwig's hat on his head.

“You still surprise me sometimes.”

“Why?” Ludwig asked. He straightened the hat and shrugged into his coat.

“You and your shoes.”

“Oh. But it's not that hard?” He stared down at them and rubbed one foot over the other.

Gilbert put his hat on his hair, cocked a little to one side so he felt good in it and did up his own coat. “You don't need to get it, it's just something an old friend told me.”

“Alright.” Ludwig watched him a little anxiously and moved around to Gilbert's right side to take his non-dominant hand before they went outside. Gilbert squeezed Ludwig's hand back and took him outside and out towards the market. 

Gilbert wandered into the shops where he knew there were things they needed, trying to see if Ludwig showed interest in anything as they went back and forth, but the kid rarely went further than a few feet away from him, both hands fixed on the handle of the basket as Gilbert slowly filled it with things. 

“You can put the basket down sometimes, you know,” Gilbert said.

“I know.” Ludwig shifted his grip, but kept his eyes down. Gilbert traced his line of sight to the display of candies and finally reached down and tapped his hands.

“Give it here and go pick one.”

“I don't need it...” Ludwig protested.

“I can get it, go pick two already.”

“One or two?” His hands slowly released the basket at least and Gilbert shrugged.

“Two. Get two of the same thing if you want.”

Ludwig nodded and threw him a shy smile and went to study the treats closer. Gilbert leaned on the counter and scanned the shop, noting where everyone was just in case anyone was showing too much interest in him. He studied one man for a moment, but the man turned back to his wife and they shared a soft laugh and moved around the shop in the opposite direction without another look. Gilbert sighed a little and smiled back at Ludwig tiredly, glad to see he was completely oblivious to the rest of the shop as he tried to decide. 

Ludwig turned back to him after a moment, his face worried. Gilbert pushed off the counter and walked over. 

“What is it?” he asked, already anticipating the problem.

“I can't decide.”

“What ones look good?” he asked. 

Ludwig pointed to four options. Gilbert took two of each and went back to the counter to add them to the things he'd already put aside to buy, Ludwig protesting quietly at his elbow the entire way.

“You didn't have to – I could've picked, I just...”

“They'll keep for a while, Ludwig, it's fine. That'll be all,” he added to the shopkeeper and the woman ducked her head to hide a smile in return. “Just make sure you eat the chocolate soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Ludwig said softly, but his expression was worried. Gilbert rested his hand on his head lightly and watched with bemusement as Ludwig relaxed and leaned into his side.

“You're a good kid,” Gilbert said roughly. “You deserve it.”

“You're such a good father,” the shopkeeper said. “He's a lucky kid.”

“Thanks,” Gilbert grinned. “I'm sure your kids are lucky too.”

The woman laughed back at him, her cheeks tinted pink as she packed up his purchases and added them to the basket. Gilbert waved at her politely and dropped his hand to offer it to Ludwig to take again. Ludwig took hold of it with a smile and pressed tight to his side. 

Gilbert had thought he might go further, but as Ludwig pressed closer to him he changed his mind and started back home. Ludwig didn't notice until they were several blocks away.

“...You didn't get cheese or anything...?” he asked.

“I remembered we were going to see François for a late dinner tonight, so I can pick it up there. They have better options by his house anyways, remember?” 

“Oh, yes.” Ludwig smiled back. “So we'll go get it there?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Gilbert hugged him back around the shoulders, happy he'd turned around when he had. Ludwig worried him sometimes, but he wanted him to be happy more than he needed to understand why he was the way he was.

Back home, Ludwig settled into the chair behind his desk as Gilbert finished putting his books away, reading over Gilbert's notes and taking his own on a sheet of paper nearby. Gilbert paid it little attention until he was done and checking to make sure he was happy with the order. 

Ludwig called his name softly, and Gilbert turned away from the bookcase with a smile.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Is this what the meeting tonight is going to be about?” Ludwig asked. “The – the social democratic workers party, and unions?”

“Oh yeah, our boss wants to discuss them, they're pretty new but people are worried, and the unions – well, Marx made a few people nervous that he's gotten so popular.”

“Marx?”

“Karl Marx,” Gilbert went over to his bookcase, scanning quickly and pulling out the book he wanted. “Here.” He tossed it onto the desk. Ludwig moved the papers quickly out of the way and picked it up. “His main book and ideas. Take your time with it, but it might come in handy to know what he said. He's an idealist and I think he's a little mad, but most ideology is. He's a good place for you to start, since he's one of mine.”

“Alright.” Ludwig tucked the book under his notes with a serious expression. “Can I come to the meeting with you?”

Gilbert hesitated, then made himself answer. “Yeah, sure!” 

It was Ludwig's country too, dammit. He was going to be distracted by it, but dammit the Reichstag had to get used to Ludwig at some point – and he had to get used to Ludwig going to meetings, too. He was just worried, that was all.

Checking the time, Gilbert excused himself to Ludwig and went into his bedroom to find his good clothes. He undressed to the point he could tighten the corset to fit the silhouette of his favourite coat, tied it off and got dressed again, ready for the meeting. He came out and found Ludwig already waiting in the hallway. The boy ran his hands nervously down his coat.

“Is this okay?”

Ludwig normally wore his nicest trousers daily, but had changed into a clean pair, a white shirt and small black coat of the loose style starting to get popular. Gilbert's preferred frock coat was starting to go out of style, but technically it was still proper formal dress. The looser coat was relatively informal for the kind of meeting they were going to, but Ludwig was a kid. Kid's didn't need to wear fashion that confining, and Ludwig had never shown any interest in matching Gilbert's style.

“Yeah, of course!” Gilbert went over and ruffled his hair. “Let me help you with your hair, okay?” 

Ludwig gave him a relieved smile again and followed him into his room to sit in front of his mirror. Gilbert combed through his short hair and parted it at the side, brushing until it lay flat to his head. He did the same to his own again, to try and sort out the wispier curls, but gave up quickly – his hair just didn't lay flat no matter what. 

“Right, we're ready to go. Do you have everything you want to bring with you?”

“Yes.” Ludwig held out the journal he used and the book. 

Gilbert took Marx's book and put it on his dresser. “Let's not scare the poor guys, they don't actually like him all that much. Keep it and read it at home, okay?”

“Okay. Should I not ask questions?”

“You can ask questions if there's a break in the talking, okay, or at the end, but if you can't bring yourself to ask right away, just write it down and I'll answer you later tonight, alright?”

Ludwig nodded seriously again and Gilbert took his hand and Stepped from his bedroom to a corner of the meeting room for the Reichstag. Several members turned to glare at him and stopped when they saw who was with him. He glared back until they covered their surprise, then walked to his seat and pulled it out from the table. 

“Have a seat Ludwig,” he said, then looked around for where to find one for himself. There wasn't a spare chair, not unless someone didn't show up. He supposed he could steal Bismarck's, but then the question was whether to do so before or after he'd sat down. He pointedly did not blush at the thought, just leaned on the table next to Ludwig and waited for the meeting to start. 

“Gilbert,” Ludwig whispered. “Do you need to sit?”

“I don't, no. It's fine.”

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably in place. “I can stand.”

“You can't take notes if you're standing,” Gilbert pointed out.

“I don't have to take notes.”

“You're still learning,” Gilbert pointed out. “You need to take notes so you remember things better later on. Besides, I don't stay seated the whole meeting anyways.”

Ludwig nodded cautiously and Gilbert stopped himself from ruffling his hair again just before Bismarck came into the room and his attention was diverted away. He walked over to greet him, but not even the worst crush he'd had since Fritz could distract him from his kid. He never went more than two feet away from Ludwig, and stayed at his side the entire time.

He was a little disappointed that Ludwig never got up the courage to ask a question of the Reichstag, but the kid had taken almost ten pages of notes during the meeting. As soon as they Stepped home, Ludwig started to ask. Gilbert made him follow him back to his room to ask so he could get out of the frock coat he wore to meetings, loosen his corset, and put on a coat better suited to going to see François for a relaxed dinner. 

Ludwig took even more notes on Gilbert's answers, and Gilbert let him carry on until he was changed and dressed for Paris before cutting him off.

“You wrote it all down, right?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah, I did.” Ludwig gave him a confused look, then blushed. “Oh! We were going to see François. I forgot, I'm sorry. I should change, I didn't mean to forget.”

“It's fine, Ludwig, what you have on is totally okay for Paris. Did you want to bring Marx's book when we go?”

“I – um – okay.” Ludwig picked it up off the dresser and clutched it to his chest, his body tight with nerves.

Gilbert turned back to face him and crouched. “Hey. Are you okay? We don't have to go if you don't want to. I know you were just really excited about the meeting. I'm not upset you forgot.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ludwig reached out for his hand and squeezed it. He took a few short breaths, then smiled at him again. “We can go now, I'm fine.”

“Alright then.” Gilbert flashed a smile at him and stood up. This time he walked Ludwig down to the front door to pick up hats and the shopping basket before he Stepped them into François' front entry. 

Gilbert turned immediately towards the kitchen and walked in, his arms wide. “François, how are you?”

“Mon ami, how do you do?” François turned from his stove and laughed and kissed his cheeks. “It is so good to see you!”

“It's good to see you too! Congratulations on your elections?” Gilbert grinned at him and eyed the kitchen. “I'm sorry to show up unexpectedly. Is there anything you'd like me to pick up for dinner from the market? I had meant to get cheese earlier but remembered how nice your locals are, assuming your markets are not on strike?”

“No, of course not, you picked a good time. Is Ludwig – ah, yes, there he is. Hallo mon petit Allemagne, ça va?”

“Bien,” Ludwig mumbled, then tucked himself behind Gilbert's legs again. 

Gilbert hid a sigh and simply shrugged at François. “He went to a meeting with me today and did very well.”

“Your first meeting? What was it about?”

“Workers unions.” Gilbert grinned at François, then looked at Ludwig. “You can ask him some of the questions you asked me too, by the way. But it might have to wait if you mean to come to the markets with me.”

“It can wait,” Ludwig said quietly. “What are we getting?”

“What are you making?” Gilbert turned back to eye the counters.

François gestured. “I was not planning anything particularly fine, just a lentil soup I've had on since the morning. Perhaps you can pick me up some garlic, fresh herbs, and a nice pasta to throw in for the last little while?”

“Of course. We won't be long.” Gilbert glanced down at Ludwig again. The boy was still watching him intently, and Gilbert offered him his hand again before walking out the front door and into the street.

Paris was always nice to visit. Perhaps what he liked most about it was that it was still early evening and bright out, whereas the meeting at the Reichstag had been late and ended after dark. It was warmer as well, and he was going to start to sweat in his coat if they stayed out too long. When he looked down to check on Ludwig, he found the kid had also turned his face up to the sun to enjoy it as well. 

François' home was less than five minutes from a marketplace. Gilbert had never known him not to have at least one home near somewhere he could access his own fresh foods to cook. Garlic and spices were easy to find together, but the pasta took a few tries. When he finally did find a place that sold the good kind, handmade by an Italian emigre, the place was half bakery. To his surprise, after he finally decided which pasta he wanted, Ludwig had disappeared from his side. His heart jumped into his throat. He walked out to the centre of the shop again and scanned for the boy, then started to look down the aisles. 

He found Ludwig the last place he expected, at the front of the shop staring intently over the counter at the woman running the store, where she was rolling out dough. He stopped when he heard Ludwig ask her “What are you making?” in soft Italian. The woman startled and smiled at him happily. 

“Croissant. Are you here for one? There's a few on display that just came out of the oven.”

“How do you make them?”

The woman glanced up at Gilbert curiously, but he quickly waved her back to Ludwig. Ludwig looked around and saw him and blushed, dropping back on his heels and clutching the basket hard.

“I'm sorry, I heard her working and wanted to see what it was.”

“It's no trouble. Go ahead and watch. I don't think François will have time to show you tonight, and there's no rush to get back.”

“Okay.” Ludwig turned back to the woman. “I'm sorry for interrupting you.”

“I appreciate your interest, child.” She carried on with her work, explaining each step as she went to solemn nods from Ludwig. He asked few questions, but his interest was so obvious in his face she didn't seem to mind. 

Once the croissant she had been working on were placed into the oven, she came back and took one down from the display to pass over the counter to Ludwig. “Here you go child. You earned it.”

Ludwig took the food with a smile, but gave Gilbert a very confused look. Gilbert smiled reassuringly back at him and paid for the pasta gratefully. “Thank you for showing him. He's very interested in baking, as you can guess, and very good at it.”

“I could see that,” she said. “He's very polite.”

“Yeah! I'll be sure to bring him back sometime. I have my own fondness for Italian food myself.”

The woman blushed happily. “Well you're always welcome here.”

Gilbert parted happily and took Ludwig's hand again as they walked back to François' home, Ludwig nibbling at the croissant as they went. They came in and Ludwig went and curled up on a chair at the dining room table while Gilbert delivered the rest of the food to François. He stripped out of his coat and folded it into the shopping basket on top of their cheese. 

When he'd obviously relaxed, François leaned over and slid an arm around his waist to kiss him softly on the mouth. “It is good to see you again,” he said. “Mon dieu, I feel like all we do in politics now is argue.”

“It's what we're both setting up for,” Gilbert said. He kissed François back and melted into his body, happy to be there. “I hope Ludwig will understand when we can't come visit anymore.”

“He will learn.” François shrugged loosely and smiled. “He is very sweet. It's nice to actually see you when you're raising a child for once, rather than having to wait until you finish worrying about them.”

Gilbert snorted, blushing at the reminder. “He's different. He needs to know you at some point. You're neighbours after all.”

“Oui. What book is he reading?”

“Marx, his Communist Manifesto. I lent it to him this evening.”

François glanced into the dining room with a worried look. “He is very focused, isn't he? He's already asked to go to meetings?”

“Yeah, he has.” Gilbert swallowed and started peeling a garlic clove. “I mean, it's not a habit yet. He's only been to one. He took notes and listened, didn't talk.”

“Ah, yes. Not yet, it seems.”

Gilbert elbowed François and started chopping up the garlic, his hands shaking. Not yet, no. He looked into the dining room again, watching Ludwig as he read at the table.

Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> The Social Democratic Workers Party (SDAP in German) formed August 1869.  
> Karl Marx was born in Prussia.  
> Frock coats had very narrow waists and flared bottoms, and were often worn with corsets to idealize the silhouette. In part because I generally write Prussia as trans, I have him loving the coats for a variety of reasons but in part because they worked very well with his figure in that regard.  
> France in 1869 was under Napoleon III and rather alarmed by the German Confederation and Otto von Bismarck. They went to war a year later, which solidified the German Confederation.  
> This is just meant to be fluff, so my apologies if something seems off about food and cities.  
> I based Ludwig's behaviour off my own experiences with anxiety, so yes that is real for some people. Not all anxiety is like that, but it's what I know.


End file.
